What is a mask but a denial of oneself?
Who can say the eyes peering through are truly yours?
Who can declare the voice eking through is yours?
Masks prevent us being ourselves.
They make us become something far more fantastical.

They can turn us into monsters,
kings,
princesses,
clowns,
machines,
even gods.
But a mask can never show our true selves.
They shield our true selves,
they shield our true emotions,
our true pains.

We take on somebody else’s soul.
A strangers?
Or maybe even a friends?
Masks are a costume for the soul.

Can you imagine what it would be like if the rain was a person?
Would it be a she?
What would she be like?
Would she be as kind and soothing as a summer shower?
Or perhaps as harsh and bitter as a freezing winter storm?

She’d be both welcomed and unwelcome at parties,
Like farmers waiting for their crops or flood survivors hoping the worst is over,
Nobody would know when she would turn up,
Or what mood she’d be in when she did,
Would she be a friendly mist or a wicked tempest?

What would she sound like?
Perhaps the light pitter-patter of a shy girl?
Or the booming hailstorm of a drama queen?
A droning drizzle or a vociferous gale?

I’m sure everyone would know her.
Who wouldn’t know the rain?
Who wouldn’t miss the rain?
Who wouldn’t love the rain?
Who wouldn’t fear the rain?

“During all my travels and all of my years, there are few beings in this world that worry me more than the Julmurns. These abominable, reptilian creatures have stained countless lands with blood, razed numberless homes and brutally ended untold lives. I hesitate to call these beings evil however, they are simply blinded by what can only be described as an immensely influential theocracy. Julmurns live in a church-state, one that dwarfs even that of the Human Religion of Dust of the past. The Dust is ironically integral to the Julmurn culture as well, in a far less harmful form however. The Julmurns once surged from the wastelands of the south end of Primea, intent on dominating all “inferior” beings. They sought nothing more than to bring all of Primea under their theocratical and tyrannical yolk.

The Julmurns hail from the Zyst Einode (yet another Dust Wasteland), south of the…

A frail old man lives upon a lost hill,
A spectre of a man,
A man with power over life and death,
He is the Necromancer,
A god over mortal flesh,
Warts and all.

A wave of the staff,
Rotting hands pulse skyward,
A chanted incantation,
Banshees shriek in the black,
A flourish of the hand,
Maggots surge from pus-filled corpses.

A sacrificial blade drips crimson,
Coffins and crypts are clawed open,
A forbidden ritual,
Bones rattle as if sentient,
A dark grin,
The dead horde begins its carnival march.

A twisted mind once filled with thoughts of family,
His rancid creations are a hollow replacement,
Their eyes no longer see,
Their minds no longer reason,
Their hearts no longer beat,
And no longer love or feel.

Sirens in a cacophony around me,
Spotlights hunting me,
Police sharks around me,
Chomping at the bit for me.
They can’t have me,
Not here,
This place is part of my legacy,
This bloodbath is sacred,
These corpses are relics,
A holy site.

To my sanctum i must go.
I’ll be safe here from those police-shaped monsters,
Those blasphemous curs,
This sanctum is my chapel,
My playground,
My hideout,
My home.

Previous rituals and games reside here,
Corpses and bloodshed,
Gore and bones,
Intestines and brains,
This glorious scene is my festival of blood,
Another chapter of my bloody legacy.

That one crucified to the wall there?
A famous actress.
The one hung from the rafters with his eyes and tongue missing?
A vile politician.
The one with his head missing and back broken?
A treasonous teacher. And the one…

“Off the west coast of Primea is the treacherous Great Divide, a nigh-on endless ocean. It’s possibly the grandest mystery on this world. Few dare to traverse its waves, fewer still have actually managed to locate any new landmasses or anything of note. It’s desolate, to say the least. Even decorated explorers such as Renault Tserra, Klaus Transuppe and Magnus the Sequined have all attempted to map the waves, to little success. One lady though, discovered something truly fascinating. Rene Jerla was a Riefan Lords daughter turned explorer who used her fathers money to buy a boat to roam the Great Divide, in hopes of making a name for herself. She discovered something fascinating, yet terrifying in the same measure. She discovered another continent, far larger than Primea. She discovered the Amber land, the continent of Demes.

Rene Jerla made contact with many inhabitants of Demes, crossing the dunes in…